


Fire

by diemarysues



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ereborcest, Multi, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M, possibly smut in the future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-06-10
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their patience should be rewarded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. strappy heels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leinthalexandra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leinthalexandra/gifts).



She was late.

 

This was galling. Dís was known for being early, and she took great pleasure in roundly telling off anyone who was late in meeting her. Seeing as she was supposed to be meet up with her two older siblings, she just _knew_ she’d have to endure endless teasing.

 

And, yes. Thorin was quite capable of teasing when he wanted to.

 

It wasn’t her fault, though. Their cousin Dáin had just gotten married, and while Dís was supposed to have returned with her brothers to their hotel, she’d been forced to deal with a post-wedding meltdown of her new cousin-in-law. Honestly. Dain sure knew how to pick them.

 

Dís rolled her eyes and fumbled in her clutch to pay the taxi. She noted that she was passed a phone number along with her change, and was polite enough to only throw it away once she’d stepped into the lobby.

 

She was spoken for, after all. Twice over.

 

Adjusting her sheer shawl over her bare shoulders, Dís ignored any eyes on her as she swept across the lobby towards the lifts. She knew well enough that she was striking in her fire-coloured dress that exposed her leg to mid-thigh with every step she took, even without the compliments she’d received all evening. She’d made up her mind about buying the thing only after she’d seen Frerin’s jaw drop.

 

A glance at her tiny gold watch. Fuck.

 

The nineteenth floor seemed an eternity away. Dís stared at herself in the polished lift doors and absently ran a hand over her hair. She sighed as the lift went past the sixth floor and wedged her clutch between her hip and her elbow. She figured she might as well fold her shawl; she wouldn’t be needing it soon, and she’d rather it not lay crumpled on the floor all night.

 

There was no one wandering about on her floor; presumably it was too late for cleaning staff or room service to be around. Dís swiftly made her way to 1991 and slid the card into the slot.

 

Good thing her brothers never latched the door.

 

Judging from the light and the soft noise, the television was likely turned on. She couldn’t hear Thorin or Frerin, though, even as she placed her shawl and clutch neatly aside. Dís smirked and stepped into the bedroom proper as she pulled the chopsticks from her hair.

 

They fell silently to the floor – as her hair fell in heavy coils about her shoulders – as she took in the sight before her.

 

Both her brothers had not yet changed out of their grey suits. Frerin’s was of a lighter colour, paired with a plum-coloured shirt and a white satin waistcoat. He was sat on the hotel room’s low couch.

 

Thorin leaned over him, one hand on Frerin’s ‘designer stubble’, the other behind Frerin’s knee to curl his leg upwards to his shoulder. They were a study in contrasts, her brothers, Thorin dark where Frerin was light. Even his clothes followed the same pattern, suit near the same shade as his black waistcoat and offset by the bright red bowtie.

 

Frerin’s clever fingers worked to loosen this as he kissed Thorin furiously; Dís’ mouth went dry at the breathy groans they both made. Heat pooled low in her belly, swiftly followed by annoyance; they couldn’t have _waited_?

 

The eldest of the three abruptly shoved Frerin further against the back of the chesterfield and went to town on his neck, grazing his teeth over the spots that had Frerin pulling him closer and laughing in delight. Gray eyes met hers.

 

“Took you long enough, Dís.”

 

Thorin didn’t turn. He hitched both of Frerin’s legs up, wrapping them around his waist and placing a knee on the sofa to press their bodies together.

 

“Oh god, _yes_.” Frerin’s hands had disappeared from view, but Dís hardly needed half an imagination to know where they’d gone, especially when Thorin growled low.

 

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Am I to stand her all night?”

 

“You’re the one who came late to the party.”

 

“It’s hardly my fault Ysorka’s flighty as a goose.” Dís raised an eyebrow. “And if I hadn’t calmed her down, you two’d have to go comfort our dear cousin instead of canoodling on the sofa.”

 

“Not everyone – _ah_ , there, yeah – not everyone holds Dáin in disdain like you do, Dís.”

 

Thorin pulled back. “I dislike him.”

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake – look, I don’t want to discuss this now. Are you going to fuck me, or what?”

 

“Maybe.” Thorin ignored Frerin’s indignant squawk and turned to look over his shoulder. His blue eyes were bright as flame. “On the bed, sister.”

 

Dís shivered, and not because she’d removed her shawl.

 

“And leave your shoes on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fucking hate my brain. Unbetaed.  
> Most likely will be continued with the actual smut. Don't hold your breath for the update to be any time soon.


	2. red bowtie

She was beautiful.

 

Not that Dís wasn’t beautiful at other times – yes, even when she’d just woken up and had a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth and mismatched socks on her feet, she was stunning. But there was something about her now, all dark hair fanned against the pillows and sunset-coloured fabric on white sheets, there was just something about that that was _intoxicating_.

 

Thorin took in the line of her shoulder where one thin strap had slipped off, and itched to put his mouth there.

 

He stripped off his shoes and socks and shucked his jacket before joining Dís – Frerin was right behind him, gracelessly climbing onto the mattress and rustling the sheets loudly.

 

“Do you think hotels deliberately use the noisiest sheets available?” Frerin asked, face utterly serious.

 

Amusement curled through Thorin as he met his brother’s gaze. “Possibly. It’s a reminder to all those renting rooms solely to commit adultery.”

 

Frerin chuckled, sliding his hands down Thorin’s thighs. “Think there’s a special thing for incestuous adultery?”

 

Thorin shrugged.

 

Lips found his ear. “Wanna find out?”

 

His laugh was swallowed by Frerin’s kiss. Thorin hummed as stubble brushed and caught against his own beard, as teeth nipped and scraped his lips, as Frerin fit their bodies together and pressed his hips against Thorin’s arse.

 

Rustling from the head of the bed had them separating and staring like two coiled snakes; Dís froze immediately, before glowering.

 

“I’m not going to sit here and be ignored.”

 

“You’ll do what we want,” Thorin said coldly. She looked like she was about to protest, but he ghosted his fingers over her ankle and she snapped her mouth shut. Thorin briefly toyed with the clasp of her strappy heels before abandoning it. He’d asked her to keep them on for a reason, after all.

 

His fingers sauntered up her leg, parting the fabric until he reached the end of the slit. He let Dís bend her knee and brace her foot against the bed as his hand slipped under her dress. Thorin’s eyebrows rose.

 

Frerin smirked at him. “Told you she wasn’t wearing any.”

 

“You be quiet.” There was no ire in his voice, and Thorin slowly dragged his beard up Dís’ thigh, then back towards her knee. They all three knew how sensitive the silky skin there was, and Dís tensed and gasped as Thorin kept his touch whisper light.

 

“Thorin – Thorin, don’t tease.”

 

“I’ll do as I like when you’re in the wrong.”

 

“It wasn’t my fault, I –”

 

He glanced up at her, smirking at the view. “You could have called ahead.”

 

“My battery died. Honestly –”

 

Frerin’s hand closed around her ankle as he tutted. “I think you’d better stop, Dís. You know how Thorin is; he’s probably adding to your punishment at every protest you make.”

 

“You spoil my fun,” Thorin muttered over a narrow look.

 

“I _am_ your fun.” He chuckled, but Thorin conceded that it was a valid point. Dís and Frerin were the two points of colour in his life; he could no more deny that than he could deny that there was no one more important than either of them in the whole world.

 

“Whereas I am having none,” Dís interrupted waspishly. God, she was demanding.

 

Thorin nodded towards the head of the bed. “Keep her quiet.”

 

Frerin unhurriedly complied, his movements slow and sure like a predator stalking its prey. As he approached, Dís tipped her head backwards, exposing her throat and offering her blood-red lips. Instead of claiming them, though, Frerin grasped a handful of dark hair and pulled.

 

Their sister inhaled sharply but didn’t protest. Of course not. She kept silent even when Frerin tugged on the front of her dress with his free hand, pulling the form-fitting bodice down far enough that her breasts spilled out. Her nipples stiffened immediately in the cold air.

 

Thorin left off from between her legs to slither up her body sinuously, eyes intent on his prize. He, unlike Frerin, reached around her body to find her zip. The low, slow slide of it made Thorin bite his lip. The dress was lovely, even if he didn’t usually have an eye for such things. It was all reds and oranges and yellows, dotted with a line of beads and sequins that lured the eye to Dís’ figure.

 

He drew the dress off her. And what a figure it was.

 

Reaching out, Thorin took Frerin’s free hand and placed it over Dís’ breast. He watched Frerin roll the nipple between thumb and forefinger, and he watched Dís arch her back into the contact. He watched them for a moment before leaning down himself and settling his tongue to the exposed skin between Frerin’s fingers.

 

Above him, Dís tried to say something, only for her words to choke off. Frerin. Good lad.

 

Thorin kissed the back of Frerin’s hand and moved to the underside of Dís’ other breast, absently grateful for his sister’s choice in dresses and her choice to go pants-less underneath. He pressed his thumbs against her ribs and let her move her hips against his.

 

Ah, yes. He and Frerin were still wearing too many clothes. Abruptly straightening (and ostensibly ignoring Dís’ whine), he almost ripped his tie off. His waistcoat joined the red strip of material on the floor.

 

He gave his brother a pointed look as his hands reached towards his buckle.

 

“You or me?” Frerin asked, peering out from under his lashes.

 

“Don’t be daft.” Thorin pulled off his belt in one smooth motion, the leather snapping. “You _know_ very well how much our sister loves being fucked.”

 

Frerin grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am in hate with myself and my inability to focus on anything.


	3. satin waistcoat

She was their sister.

 

That was not something that’d stopped Frerin. He’d always known what he wanted, and he always worked to get it. When he realised he was _in_ love with Dís, when he realised that she was enchantingly beautiful, it was only a matter of time before he chased after her.

 

Looking back on it, he’d been lucky that Dís had felt the same way. She didn’t take nonsense from anyone, much less her own brothers; she’d likely have set him straight if she hadn’t wanted to reciprocate.

 

They’d been young, then, and thought they knew better than everything else. Frerin didn’t know it at the time but Thorin had been aware of it all. Knowing him, he’d probably known for years, and had covered for them.

 

When he and Dís had found this out, they’d done the only thing they’d known to do; they’d thanked him.

 

Well. _Thanked_ him.

 

From then on there had been no looking back. Frerin and Dís were already lost to each other – once they had between them reduced their older brother to a quivering mess between the sheets, there was no force on Earth that would make them let him go.

 

Sometimes he would lie awake at night, imagining scenarios of Thorin and Dís leaving him. It was his greatest fear that he would drive them away. That he would say or do something that would have them realising his worthlessness and how much better off they were without him.

 

That, because of his own doing, he would end up alone.

 

Now, though, now he was not alone. Not with Dís spread in front of him and Thorin pressed against his back.

 

Frerin barely needed any prep before Thorin was pushing and pushing and pushing into him. Soon his older brother was buried hilt-deep in him, holding their bodies together tightly so Frerin couldn’t start moving. Bastard.

 

“Move,” he said tightly, reaching behind to scrabble at Thorin’s hip.

 

A mistake. Thorin shoved between Frerin’s shoulder blades. Frerin wobbled admirably, but with only one hand supporting his weight, he collapsed onto the bed, arse still high up in the air. He should’ve known.

 

But then he took in his new position, oh so conveniently between Dís’ thighs. Clever.

 

Frerin forced his hands under his chest so he had the leverage to lean forward just that little bit… But of course his head was jerked backwards. His mouth worked furiously to curse Thorin and the hand in his hair, but no words emerged; finally, Dís had to curse Thorin in his place.

 

“Now isn’t the time for your shitty games, Thorin,” she snarled. Despite her ferocity, she still lay pliant and exposed on the bed and Frerin licked his lips desperately.

 

There was no reply from Thorin – not counting his sudden thrust forward that had Frerin releasing an explosive breath.

 

Very soon it became clear what Thorin’s plan was. He fucked Frerin just the way he liked it; hard and fast and just on the edge of desperate. Every movement he made rendered Frerin near-incoherent, and made Dís squirm with every hot exhalation against her skin.

 

Frerin grinned wickedly and positioned his mouth so his breath ghosted more firmly over Dís.

 

She was magnificent, their fierce and gorgeous Dís. She had the most control of the three of them; even now as she was being teased, still she did not touch herself, did not reach out to shove Frerin’s face between her legs. Her eyes were tightly shut and her lower lip bitten raw, but she did not disobey Thorin’s orders, even when Thorin’s thrusts turned erratic and Frerin tumbled into orgasm after him.

 

Neither of them was cruel enough to deny her release, though. They loved her too much.

 

Even before Frerin had recovered his breath he was pressing forward, greedily working his tongue into her and delighting in Dís’ high-pitched yelp. He hummed when he felt Thorin slide strong fingers up his back, and that in turn made Dís clench her thighs around his head.

 

The pressure eased. Frerin managed to open an eye and glanced to the side, watching Thorin suck a line of marks along Dís’ inner thigh. Frerin _ached_ to echo that pattern on her other thigh, but he had the heady taste of her on his tongue. That was more satisfying than any hickey.

 

He worked her methodically, taking note as he always did of her reactions, until his jaw started to ache. And then Thorin was gently pushing him away to take his place; Dís’ cries only grew as their older brother slipped in a couple of fingers as well.

 

Frerin moved up, swiping his lips over the dips and swells of her body. Particular attention was paid to her navel; it was not common knowledge that she’d pierced it years back. Both Frerin and Thorin knew that she would grow desperate if either of them tugged on it with their teeth.

 

Still he continued on, finally burying his head in the valley between her breasts. He mouthed lazily at her chest as his hand drifted down through her curls, pressing and sliding insistently where Thorin’s mouth didn’t reach. He knew her body as well as he did his own (and Thorin’s), and when it went taut underneath him, Frerin’s grin turned feral.

 

They had no words after that; none were needed. Frerin idly ran his hand through Thorin’s hair where his older brother had a cheek pressed to Dís’ hip. Frerin’s own head was pillowed on their sister’s belly.

 

Later, Dís would insist that they get up and clean off. Thorin would make sure to drag the soiled sheets off of the bed. And Frerin would grope his siblings in the shower.

 

But for now, Frerin was happy to lie in bed with them. Life was good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And done.


End file.
